When my toes grow numb from walking home in the rain on dark, cold nights…
At least I'll always know I'm not far from a warm house.
For the times when my thoughts run wild and creativity is flooding my mind…
At least I'll always know I have many avenues to express myself.
The times I feel like I can never obtain perfection at my job…
At least I'll always know I have something better to strive for.
For all the work scenarios I take home with me in my thoughts…
At least I'll always know I'm doing something I'm passionate about.
The times my sides have hurt from laughing too hard…
At least I'll always know it's easy for me to find humor in any situation.
When I think about all the unanswered questions I've had in my life...
At least I'll always know that the more mysteries I pursue, the more I find out just how little I know.
When I miss my friends who moved far away…
At least I'll always know I know the coolest people who live life fearlessly, and for that I am constantly inspired.
For the many times I lament about the clothes on my floor…
At least I'll always know I have options of clothing to wear and two hands to pick them up.
When the winter cold sets in and I start to get sad…
At least I'll always know I know how good the warm sun feels.
On the days my body hurts, but I want to run anyway…
At least I'll always know I'll never love my love for running.
When my face turns red from reading past journal entries…
At least I'll always know that I'm constantly progressing.
When song lyrics play in my mind at all times during the day…
At least I'll always know I'll never lose my love for music.
Those times that I need to get out and escape the momentary complications of daily life…
At least I'll always know the river will always be there and flowing in the same direction.
The times I've been insecure about feeling "different"…
At least I'll always know that I'm not like anyone else.
For those nights when the clatter of wind wakes me up from running across my window panes…
At least I'll always know I have a shelter to protect me.
When I hear the sound of the door open or smell something sweet baking in the kitchen…
At least I'll always know I have the dearest housemates.
For all the places I wish to travel and sites I day dream of seeing…
At least I'll always know I'll never lose my love for adventure.
And those days I wonder If I'll ever find love…
At least I'll always know I'm capable of loving.
The times I've stood back and seen how the Lord has guided my life…
At least I'll always know that I have a savior who knows me personally.
Tuesday, December 6, 2016
Sunday, November 27, 2016
Pieces
I spent this past week in the hometown I grew up in. I was housesitting for some friends while they were on vacation. Marietta, PA. There is no place like it, and that's what makes it so wonderful. I love getting the chance to slow down, take care of dogs and spend more time with my family.
Friday evening I took a run across town like I have so many times in my life. In Marietta the nights are darker, but somehow I feel more safe, more secure and more free to be myself. Under the dimly lit street lights I ran down my town's main street admiring resident's newly set-up Christmas decorations. For over two miles down the main part of town I only saw three cars and one pedestrian.
As I make my way further down east I pass my the home of my Grandparents. I see the glow of the television and light of family room on. I can picture my grandparents watching either Jeopardy or NBC news. I smile at the predicability and steadiness of their schedules, and how at any given time I can probably guess what they are doing even if it's been a few weeks since I've seen them. As I run I continue to think how blessed I was to have grandparents that lived so close to me my whole life. I have always known I was never far from a hug, a visit, a hot cup of coffee, a piece of pie or even an adventure. My mind flooded with memories from my childhood at their house playing creative games with my cousins, making paper dolls with grandma and watching Disney movies after school. I think back to the visit I had with them two days before and how good it was to see them, catch up and reconnect. Coming off the heels of Thanksgiving I am reminded of just how special these memories and times of reconnection are. The cool of evening sets in through my layers and into my skin as I run back to the place I am staying.
Life changes fast in sixteen hours. Life can change fast in an instant, a blink of an eye or a flash of fire.
Around noon on Saturday I watched in shock and disbeleif as my grandparents home was lit up in flames. The urgent look on the faces of the brave first responders told the truth that this was a big deal. Relief poured over me when I realized they were both safe and sound. Fire companies from numerous departments came to offer assistance. Community members from all over showed up to see what was happening. I found my family in the midst of the crowd and we just held each other for while not quite knowing what to say. My mind was a haze and head was just spinning. I thought back to the run I had in the exact location the evening before where everything was peaceful, predictable and secure. Now the circumstances were extremely different and life was changing before our very eyes. I never watched a fire like I did yesterday. Just when I thought the smoke would clear and it would be over, more flames would set in. I watched the valiant effort of brave men and woman using strength and knowledge to combat the flames and smoke. I saw windows brake and people climbing on roofs to get to the root of the problem. Even at a distance and standing on the sidelines the smell of smoke was so powerful that I couldn't imagine what the firefighters were going through.
Sometimes food is the answer to everything. After a few hours of watching the horror of the fire, the scene was settling. The investigation is still going on, but the fire was out and they were about to board up the house. Dominos heard about the situation and donated many pizzas to our family. My cousin lives a block away from my grandparents, so we were able to come together and share a meal of pizza and ham pot pie.
My grandparents spent the night in her guest room. I asked my cousin if I could get the room ready for them. She said sure, thanked me, and gave me a tight hug. What she didn't know is I was just as, if not, more thankful. Many aspects of the day went wrong and the fix was beyond anyone's control. It is such a helpless feeling to see something tragic happen before your eyes to someone you love. I wanted so bad to stop the fire, hit rewind and have the whole thing never happen. I wanted to sit in my Grandma's kitchen like I did two days ago, talk about drawing and have everything be normal. Instead I had a mattress as my canvas, a fitted sheet and some blankets. For the next twenty minutes I made the bed in the best way I knew how. I thought about my old school nursing teacher dropping a quarter on the sheet and watching it bounce. I folded the sheets at the top, backed up reassessed it, and then did it again. My wanting the room to be perfect was my small way of wanting everything to be okay. It gave me a tiny grasp of control and way to help them spend their first night away from home a little better.
Tonight I ran across town again just like I did two nights ago. The cold night air was just as refreshing and now tonight Christmas lights on garland illuminated the main section of Market st. Peace and exhilaration came over me as I passed the twinkling lights, beautiful garland and the pattern of lantern, star, lantern, star. As I got closer to the home of my grandparents the smell set in first. Like a bad memory the smell of old smoke lingered from at least a block away. And just like elevated troponins after a heart attack, the bad smell was a reminder that something horrible happened. I watched from a distance as a minivan slowed down to see the house and then drove away into the night.
I ran to the house and my heart kind of stopped (if that's even possible to still be alive.) I thought of all the memories I made of a lifetime of going to Grandma and Pop's. Summers on the porch swing, sleepovers, hot chocolate and cinnamon toast, exploring the attic and admiring my Grandma's artwork. I stood there alone, looked at the house and almost felt betrayed by something inanimate. "How could you burn on fire?!" I wanted to yell.
As I ran back I continued to think and reminisce. It occurred to me that all of the memories had nothing to due with the house, but my grandparents that lived there. They lived and dwelled there and were the one's responsible for creating all the amazing memories I grew up with. They raised my dad and his two brothers, worked hard and lived a good life in the strong two story brick house. They have stories to tell and more lessons I can learn about being a hard worker and good person. Shelter is good, and necessary for survival, but what is more important are the people that live inside. They are okay and for that I am most thankful. The road ahead is long. I can't really fathom it now. I desire for this experience to bring us closer together. I hope and expect that good will come out of this situation that we can't even imagine at the moment.
Thank you to all the firefighters, police officers, Red Cross volunteers and community members for your diligence, care and support during this time.
Pieces
I spent this past week in the hometown I grew up in. I was housesitting for some friends while they were on vacation. Marietta, PA. There is no place like it, and that's what makes it so wonderful. I love getting the chance to slow down, take care of dogs and spend more time with my family.
Friday evening I took a run across town like I have so many times in my life. In Marietta the nights are darker, but somehow I feel more safe, more secure and more free to be myself. Under the dimly lit street lights I ran down my town's main street admiring resident's newly set-up Christmas decorations. For over two miles down the main part of town I only saw three cars and one pedestrian.
As I make my way further down east I pass my the home of my Grandparents. I see the glow of the television and light of the family room on. I can picture my grandparents watching either Jeopardy or NBC news. I smile at the predicability and steadiness of their schedules, and how at any given time I can probably guess what they are doing even if it's been a few weeks since I've seen them. As I run I continue to think how blessed I was to have grandparents that lived so close to me my whole life. I have always known I was never far from a hug, a visit, a hot cup of coffee, a piece of pie or even an adventure. My mind flooded with memories from my childhood at their house playing creative games with my cousins, making paper dolls with grandma and watching Disney movies after school. I think back to the visit I had with them two days before and how good it was to see them, catch up and reconnect. Coming off the heels of Thanksgiving I am reminded of just how special these memories and times of reconnection are. The cool of evening sets in through my layers and into my skin as I run back to the place I am staying.
Life changes fast in sixteen hours. Life can change fast in an instant, a blink of an eye or a flash of fire.
Around noon on Saturday I watched in shock and disbeleif as my grandparents home was lit up in flames. The urgent look on the faces of the brave first responders told the truth that this was a big deal. Relief poured over me when I realized they were both safe and sound. Fire companies from numerous departments came to offer assistance. Community members from all over showed up to see what was happening. I found my family in the midst of the crowd and we just held each other for while not quite knowing what to say. My mind was a haze and head was just spinning. I thought back to the run I had in the exact location the evening before where everything was peaceful, predictable and secure. Now the circumstances were extremely different and life was changing before our very eyes. I never watched a fire like I did yesterday. Just when I thought the smoke would clear and it would be over, more flames would set in. I watched the valiant effort of brave men and woman using strength and knowledge to combat the flames and smoke. I saw windows brake and people climbing on roofs to get to the root of the problem. Even at a distance and standing on the sidelines the smell of smoke was so powerful that I couldn't imagine what the firefighters were going through.
Sometimes food is the answer to everything. After a few hours of watching the horror of the fire, the scene was settling. The investigation is still going on, but the fire was out and they were about to board up the house. Dominos heard about the situation and donated many pizzas to our family. My cousin lives a block away from my grandparents, so we were able to come together and share a meal of pizza and ham pot pie.
My grandparents spent the night in her guest room. I asked my cousin if I could get the room ready for them. She said sure, thanked me, and gave me a tight hug. What she didn't know is I was just as, if not, more thankful. Many aspects of the day went wrong and the fix was beyond anyone's control. It is such a helpless feeling to see something tragic happen before your eyes to someone you love. I wanted so bad to stop the fire, hit rewind and have the whole thing never happen. I wanted to sit in my Grandma's kitchen like I did two days ago, talk about drawing and have everything be normal. Instead I had a mattress as my canvas, a fitted sheet and some blankets. For the next twenty minutes I made the bed in the best way I knew how. I thought about my old school nursing teacher dropping a quarter on the sheet and watching it bounce. I folded the sheets at the top, backed up reassessed it, and then did it again. My wanting the room to be perfect was my small way of wanting everything to be okay. It gave me a tiny grasp of control and way to help them spend their first night away from home a little better.
Tonight I ran across town again just like I did two nights ago. The cold night air was just as refreshing and now tonight Christmas lights on garland illuminated the main section of Market st. Peace and exhilaration came over me as I passed the twinkling lights, beautiful garland and the pattern of lantern, star, lantern, star. As I got closer to the home of my grandparents the smell set in first. Like a bad memory the smell of old smoke lingered from at least a block away. And just like elevated troponins after a heart attack, the bad smell was a reminder that something horrible happened. I watched from a distance as a minivan slowed down to see the house and then drove away into the night.
I ran to the house and my heart kind of stopped (if that's even possible to still be alive.) I thought of all the memories I made of a lifetime of going to Grandma and Pop's. Summers on the porch swing, sleepovers, hot chocolate and cinnamon toast, exploring the attic and admiring my Grandma's artwork. I stood there alone, looked at the house and almost felt betrayed by something inanimate. "How could you burn on fire?!" I wanted to yell.
As I ran back I continued to think and reminisce. It occurred to me that all of the memories had nothing to due with the house, but my grandparents that lived there. They lived and dwelled there and were the one's responsible for creating all the amazing memories I grew up with. They raised my dad and his two brothers, worked hard and lived a good life in the strong two story brick house. They have stories to tell and more lessons I can learn about being a hard worker and good person. Shelter is good, and necessary for survival, but what is more important are the people that live inside. They are okay and for that I am most thankful. The road ahead is long. I can't really fathom it now. I desire for this experience to bring us closer together. I hope and expect that good will come out of this situation that we can't even imagine at the moment.
Thank you to all the firefighters, police officers, Red Cross volunteers and community members for your diligence, care and support during this time.
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
Some Rain and a Sprain
"You might just have to go on light duty for a while"
"There is no such thing as 'light duty' on my unit, Doctor."
I try to half smile as we discuss the prognosis of my pesky ankle injury. I sit in the small exam room with harsh lighting and posters telling me to cheer up.
Last week I was overly exuberant about purchasing a long board for my twenty fifth birthday. I was having a blast and making jokes about pulling muscles related to my old age. As fate would have it I sprained/ pulled something in my right heel. Now one week later I am hobbling around and looking at my long board with longing (haha to word play) and a little bit of anger. Every step is painful. I get stares and looks of sympathy from people at the store. People offer to hold the door more often or extend extra politeness, which is certainly kind. However, I really do not prefer the extra attention.
This whole week has been such a journey. I have been trying to keep a positive attitude and learn what I can. First thing I'm learning is to be patient with my body. Things don't just change overnight. We live in such a fast paced, instant world. We have access to anything we want to know right away, food on demand and quick fixes for any problems anytime we need them. Our bodies still operate the same way they did hundreds of years ago. Our patience just has dramatically decreased. I tell my patients this all the time. The body sometimes just needs to take its course and heal. Now I am eating the words to my own sermon. Slowly with time, love, naproxen, ice and elevation I'm hoping it will heal up soon.
I have also learned to not take my health for granted. This summer I went on many runs, hikes, bike rides and late night walks without a care in the world. I've worked twelve hour shifts and come home to do more work or workout right after. I don't say this to come across as wonder woman, but to say that I took my healthy body for granted. I assumed my body would always work the way it should and had no question it would. Now the most basic of tasks take me twice as long. My brain thinks quicker but my body is slower to get there. I look out my window as runners pass by in the early morning and late evening. Apart of my heart aches because that was me a week ago and now walking to bathroom is a challenge. I see groups kids on scooters or dribbling basketballs down the street and my ankle starts to hurt just watching them run around. With my foot propped up on a beanbag I lie in my bed and watch the action out my second story window with only a novel to keep me company. I think to myself that when I feel a hundred percent again I will be thankful for everyday I can walk pain free.
The last thing I am learning is something I am still working on and the learning is ongoing as this journey continues. It is fear of the unknown. All the 'what-ifs' and questions that swirl my mind as the hours pass and the sharp pain continues to persist with each and every step. What about work? When will the pain stop? How much activity is too much? What if it gets more serious the more I walk? All of these questions my family doctor and I do not seem to have the answers to. This challenging time has given a great opportunity to trust in God and strengthen my prayer life because in this moment I genuinely feel weak. I know that when I am weak, he is strong. That is Sunday School 101, but when the times actually happen where you need to trust because there is no other option it all becomes more real. I also believe that God can heal this and I continue to pray and believe for that as well. I have realized that I have little control of the unknown. Stewing over the situation will not lesson the pain or make me better. Continuing to trust God, pray for him to give continued strength and healing is the only way to peace of mind.
This whole experience has also given me the ability to be more empathetic with those who struggle to walk, have disabilities or other injuries as well. If I have a patient with pain I feel like I can resonate more with their particular needs. I see the world a little different now in terms of distances to walk places or how much doing an activity will provoke the pain. I have a deeper understanding for their needs, and for that I'm glad to have this difficult time for that reason.
I hope this late summer is treating you well. Be thankful for the health you have or continue to press on if you're struggling with pain as well. Also try to look for learning opportunities in the challenges because during these times we will grow the most.
"There is no such thing as 'light duty' on my unit, Doctor."
I try to half smile as we discuss the prognosis of my pesky ankle injury. I sit in the small exam room with harsh lighting and posters telling me to cheer up.
Last week I was overly exuberant about purchasing a long board for my twenty fifth birthday. I was having a blast and making jokes about pulling muscles related to my old age. As fate would have it I sprained/ pulled something in my right heel. Now one week later I am hobbling around and looking at my long board with longing (haha to word play) and a little bit of anger. Every step is painful. I get stares and looks of sympathy from people at the store. People offer to hold the door more often or extend extra politeness, which is certainly kind. However, I really do not prefer the extra attention.
This whole week has been such a journey. I have been trying to keep a positive attitude and learn what I can. First thing I'm learning is to be patient with my body. Things don't just change overnight. We live in such a fast paced, instant world. We have access to anything we want to know right away, food on demand and quick fixes for any problems anytime we need them. Our bodies still operate the same way they did hundreds of years ago. Our patience just has dramatically decreased. I tell my patients this all the time. The body sometimes just needs to take its course and heal. Now I am eating the words to my own sermon. Slowly with time, love, naproxen, ice and elevation I'm hoping it will heal up soon.
I have also learned to not take my health for granted. This summer I went on many runs, hikes, bike rides and late night walks without a care in the world. I've worked twelve hour shifts and come home to do more work or workout right after. I don't say this to come across as wonder woman, but to say that I took my healthy body for granted. I assumed my body would always work the way it should and had no question it would. Now the most basic of tasks take me twice as long. My brain thinks quicker but my body is slower to get there. I look out my window as runners pass by in the early morning and late evening. Apart of my heart aches because that was me a week ago and now walking to bathroom is a challenge. I see groups kids on scooters or dribbling basketballs down the street and my ankle starts to hurt just watching them run around. With my foot propped up on a beanbag I lie in my bed and watch the action out my second story window with only a novel to keep me company. I think to myself that when I feel a hundred percent again I will be thankful for everyday I can walk pain free.
The last thing I am learning is something I am still working on and the learning is ongoing as this journey continues. It is fear of the unknown. All the 'what-ifs' and questions that swirl my mind as the hours pass and the sharp pain continues to persist with each and every step. What about work? When will the pain stop? How much activity is too much? What if it gets more serious the more I walk? All of these questions my family doctor and I do not seem to have the answers to. This challenging time has given a great opportunity to trust in God and strengthen my prayer life because in this moment I genuinely feel weak. I know that when I am weak, he is strong. That is Sunday School 101, but when the times actually happen where you need to trust because there is no other option it all becomes more real. I also believe that God can heal this and I continue to pray and believe for that as well. I have realized that I have little control of the unknown. Stewing over the situation will not lesson the pain or make me better. Continuing to trust God, pray for him to give continued strength and healing is the only way to peace of mind.
This whole experience has also given me the ability to be more empathetic with those who struggle to walk, have disabilities or other injuries as well. If I have a patient with pain I feel like I can resonate more with their particular needs. I see the world a little different now in terms of distances to walk places or how much doing an activity will provoke the pain. I have a deeper understanding for their needs, and for that I'm glad to have this difficult time for that reason.
I hope this late summer is treating you well. Be thankful for the health you have or continue to press on if you're struggling with pain as well. Also try to look for learning opportunities in the challenges because during these times we will grow the most.
Monday, August 15, 2016
Just a Little Postcard
For the past three years I've lived at the same place. It's been such an experience having so many neighbors in every direction. One mom that lives down the street sticks out in my mind as person I would like to be like someday.
I started to notice her two years ago when she would walk her children to school. I would sit at the same place in my living room every morning to study, eat pancakes and drink coffee; but mostly just study. I always loved the soft morning light, cool morning breeze and the happy chatter as hundreds of children walked to the local junior high. After the morning rush of middle school kids and traffic settled down she would walk past my house hand in hand with her two children (probably taking the one to the local preschool).
In the midst of my mind being in a haze from reading about hemoglobin or discovering the fascinating pathophysiology of pneumonia I would hear them coming down the street. Most times I would hear her kids first; happily talking about the leaves on the ground or engrossed in a story about how big the monster was or how tall the Jenga tower was last night. She was always listening and ever present each morning. She was always asking questions and laughing as her kids told homemade knock knock jokes they made up on the fly. It was obvious she was making the most of each moment everyday with her children.
What also always impressed me was what she didn't do. She never yelled at her kids or acted like walking them to school was a hassle. If they got rowdy she would correct it, but she was never harsh or threatening. This is what probably stood out to me the most about her and her kids.
As the months rolled on and fall turned into winter I would continue to see them pass everyday. Their attire changed with the weather from jeans and sweaters to crochet hats and snow boots. She was still always the same: pleasant, kind, funny and full of life; just as much as her kids. I would cherish the mental break from studying as they would make their way past my house.
I often thought that she is the type of mom I want to be someday. She gives me hope that parenting is a joy and also a beautiful challenge. Since we are only a few houses apart I would see them a lot when I would be out as well. I would smile, say "Hi" and do the whole pleasant neighborly exchange, but they didn't know what an impact they were making on my life.
For weeks it was on my heart to write her a postcard just to say how much she inspired me. It was something to affect of how I think she's a great mom, I aspire to like her someday and seeing her with her kids is a bright spot in my day. Although I thought about it for a while it still took courage for me to do because it was a little out of my comfort zone. I found a postcard of an art piece that I liked and wrote a simple message on the back.
Writing it was easier then actually taking the action to deliver it. Being too cheap to buy stamps, I waited until her and her son went to pick up her daughter at preschool so I could drop it off incognito. I proofread it a hundred times before I nervously walked down the six houses that separate us to drop the post card off. On her front porch I put it under the welcome mat so the blustery winter wind wouldn't send it away. I had fumbled around a bit as to ensure it was sticking out enough she could see the pretty design yet secure enough it wouldn't blow away. With a little bit of adrenaline pumping and trying to be mindful of time I ran home; fully cognizant that I probably looked like a complete goon to anyone watching.
When I got home I did some dishes to release any nervous tension and reflect on what I just did. Apart of me challenged the whole idea and wanted to spring back to her place, pick up the card and forget the idea even crossed my mind. I mean, I signed the card "Emily, the girl who lives *described house* and wears the blue jacket". As the water from the faucet started to warm my freezing cold hands I settled into the task I was doing. I love writing cards and words of encouragement to people, but to people I don't really know is kind of challenging. As I scrubbed the dried pasta off an old lasagna dish I prayed that God would touch her heart with those words and it wouldn't be about me at all. Shortly after I felt a peace in my heart and almost an excitement about the whole thing. I thought of the words of edification and encouragement that I have received over the years. The ones that have stood out or carried the most weight were from people I would least expect or who didn't know me well but could see my heart.
Fifteen minutes seemed like an eternity until I heard them coming up the street. They were hand in hand, just like they always were. I dried the last dish and watched them make their way up the front porch. I almost laughed when all three of them walked right into the house not seeing the note sticking out the welcome mat! No one noticed at all, and I couldn't blame them. It was so frigid that after walking so many blocks it would be my soul purpose as well to get out of the cold and into the house. Well, mission of encouragement failed. It would probably blow away with the snow storm they were calling for later this evening and a middle schooler would find it next month when the snow melted away. Three seconds later the front door opened again. Much to my surprise her daughter walked out and picked up the post card and brought it inside. I smiled at the scene I just watched unfold. So they actually did get it. Now she was reading the words from the postcard and I just left it at that. I prayed again that God would speak to her more then any words I could say and then went back to the living room to study.
Its been about a year and a half since that day, and I don't have an amazing conclusion to this story to wrap it up. She never said anything about it and I certainly didn't either. I still yet to have a full conversation with her. When our paths cross now though she smiles extra big like she knows, but I'm still not sure. I smile too and say "Hello", but not much more. I live with a bunch of awesome people (and we all wear different colored stuff) so she probably knows it's one of us. Sometimes I forget about the note and sometimes I wonder what came of it. I pray sometime I'll have the opportunity or greater courage to get to know her better because she seems like an amazing person I could learn from. I see her or her husband out with their kids almost everyday. They smile, laugh and take so much joy in everyday life. Now it is summer so it's all about bikes, scooters and sidewalk chalk. It is still so nice to see them out and to have them as neighbors.
Due to the length of time that has past and the inconclusiveness of the story made me hesitate writing this post. In fact, I started writing this about two weeks ago and just left the tab open. The story would have more weight if lets say I knew something more powerful came from the note of encouragement. However, I believe the most amazing things happen that we will never know about. And honestly I like the mystery a little better then knowing. I like not knowing how she reacted or what came of the note. It is only for stories sake I kind if wish there was a story to follow through with the action.
When I think back to that day I think of how easy it was, how good I felt afterwards and to encourage others when they inspire me. I sincerely believe that the most beautiful things in life happen in the everyday. We just need the eyes to see and an open heart to embrace them and be inspired. This will challenge us and lead us toward doing good in our own lives. Someday, if I'm blessed to have children (long, long, long down the road) I hope I will think back to this family and be reminded of the joy parenting can bring. Until then I will continue to look for ways to encourage others and be inspired by all that's around me.
I hope you have an amazing week. Remember what inspires you, but also remember that you have the power to inspire others.
What also always impressed me was what she didn't do. She never yelled at her kids or acted like walking them to school was a hassle. If they got rowdy she would correct it, but she was never harsh or threatening. This is what probably stood out to me the most about her and her kids.
As the months rolled on and fall turned into winter I would continue to see them pass everyday. Their attire changed with the weather from jeans and sweaters to crochet hats and snow boots. She was still always the same: pleasant, kind, funny and full of life; just as much as her kids. I would cherish the mental break from studying as they would make their way past my house.
I often thought that she is the type of mom I want to be someday. She gives me hope that parenting is a joy and also a beautiful challenge. Since we are only a few houses apart I would see them a lot when I would be out as well. I would smile, say "Hi" and do the whole pleasant neighborly exchange, but they didn't know what an impact they were making on my life.
For weeks it was on my heart to write her a postcard just to say how much she inspired me. It was something to affect of how I think she's a great mom, I aspire to like her someday and seeing her with her kids is a bright spot in my day. Although I thought about it for a while it still took courage for me to do because it was a little out of my comfort zone. I found a postcard of an art piece that I liked and wrote a simple message on the back.
Writing it was easier then actually taking the action to deliver it. Being too cheap to buy stamps, I waited until her and her son went to pick up her daughter at preschool so I could drop it off incognito. I proofread it a hundred times before I nervously walked down the six houses that separate us to drop the post card off. On her front porch I put it under the welcome mat so the blustery winter wind wouldn't send it away. I had fumbled around a bit as to ensure it was sticking out enough she could see the pretty design yet secure enough it wouldn't blow away. With a little bit of adrenaline pumping and trying to be mindful of time I ran home; fully cognizant that I probably looked like a complete goon to anyone watching.
When I got home I did some dishes to release any nervous tension and reflect on what I just did. Apart of me challenged the whole idea and wanted to spring back to her place, pick up the card and forget the idea even crossed my mind. I mean, I signed the card "Emily, the girl who lives *described house* and wears the blue jacket". As the water from the faucet started to warm my freezing cold hands I settled into the task I was doing. I love writing cards and words of encouragement to people, but to people I don't really know is kind of challenging. As I scrubbed the dried pasta off an old lasagna dish I prayed that God would touch her heart with those words and it wouldn't be about me at all. Shortly after I felt a peace in my heart and almost an excitement about the whole thing. I thought of the words of edification and encouragement that I have received over the years. The ones that have stood out or carried the most weight were from people I would least expect or who didn't know me well but could see my heart.
Fifteen minutes seemed like an eternity until I heard them coming up the street. They were hand in hand, just like they always were. I dried the last dish and watched them make their way up the front porch. I almost laughed when all three of them walked right into the house not seeing the note sticking out the welcome mat! No one noticed at all, and I couldn't blame them. It was so frigid that after walking so many blocks it would be my soul purpose as well to get out of the cold and into the house. Well, mission of encouragement failed. It would probably blow away with the snow storm they were calling for later this evening and a middle schooler would find it next month when the snow melted away. Three seconds later the front door opened again. Much to my surprise her daughter walked out and picked up the post card and brought it inside. I smiled at the scene I just watched unfold. So they actually did get it. Now she was reading the words from the postcard and I just left it at that. I prayed again that God would speak to her more then any words I could say and then went back to the living room to study.
Its been about a year and a half since that day, and I don't have an amazing conclusion to this story to wrap it up. She never said anything about it and I certainly didn't either. I still yet to have a full conversation with her. When our paths cross now though she smiles extra big like she knows, but I'm still not sure. I smile too and say "Hello", but not much more. I live with a bunch of awesome people (and we all wear different colored stuff) so she probably knows it's one of us. Sometimes I forget about the note and sometimes I wonder what came of it. I pray sometime I'll have the opportunity or greater courage to get to know her better because she seems like an amazing person I could learn from. I see her or her husband out with their kids almost everyday. They smile, laugh and take so much joy in everyday life. Now it is summer so it's all about bikes, scooters and sidewalk chalk. It is still so nice to see them out and to have them as neighbors.
Due to the length of time that has past and the inconclusiveness of the story made me hesitate writing this post. In fact, I started writing this about two weeks ago and just left the tab open. The story would have more weight if lets say I knew something more powerful came from the note of encouragement. However, I believe the most amazing things happen that we will never know about. And honestly I like the mystery a little better then knowing. I like not knowing how she reacted or what came of the note. It is only for stories sake I kind if wish there was a story to follow through with the action.
When I think back to that day I think of how easy it was, how good I felt afterwards and to encourage others when they inspire me. I sincerely believe that the most beautiful things in life happen in the everyday. We just need the eyes to see and an open heart to embrace them and be inspired. This will challenge us and lead us toward doing good in our own lives. Someday, if I'm blessed to have children (long, long, long down the road) I hope I will think back to this family and be reminded of the joy parenting can bring. Until then I will continue to look for ways to encourage others and be inspired by all that's around me.
I hope you have an amazing week. Remember what inspires you, but also remember that you have the power to inspire others.
Saturday, July 23, 2016
Beyond Social Media
Last night I posted some pictures on Facebook. It was a beautiful Friday night, we were in a beautiful spot and I was with some beautiful people. After dinner together our neighbor friends, my brother and I took our dogs down to the river and went exploring off the trail. We had some good laughs and nice talks. The memories we captured I'll go back to and smile when they come to mind. From the looks of what I posted last night and the past few days it may look like my life is positive and maybe outdoorsy. From the looks of my timeline everything is great. I'm usually smiling or posting some random thing I'm doing.
But people only see a very small fraction of my life. No one knew about the feelings of loneliness and doubt I experienced just hours before we went out. No one saw me sitting on the curb of Wendy's Thursday night at 11:30 pm because I was too tired to cook dinner after work. No one sees my messy room where half of my clean clothes are still in the wash basket and the other half are slowly becoming friends with the dirty clothes pile.
I would say that I am a happy person. I have so much to be thankful for. In fact, many amazing things happen in my life everyday that it would be way overboard if I documented it all. However, I think a problem can lie if we perceive what others post on Facebook, Instagram and other social media as exactly how their life goes.
Every day there's a few posts related to fitness goals accomplished. Before and after pictures are documented after the completion of a thirty day shred or sixty days of "clean eating" or whatever. Despite my best intentions, I can count on one hand how many sit-ups I did this summer (and I was still sore the next day). And I can promise that the bowls of ice cream consumed far exceeds that number. I scroll through social media to see moments captured by happy couples; holding hands and gazing into the sunset in perfect lighting. I feel a slight pang, because I don't know when that time will come for me. I see others days, vacations, clean rooms, fitness accomplishments and creative ideas. It is so easy to feel a sense of inadequacy purely based on what others post on social media. Sometimes I even feel behind in life or this sense that I'm not where I should be. The funny thing is that seeing someone's post about a ten mile run never motivated me enough to get out the door and go on one myself. It just left me feeling like "I should do that..someday, sometime.."
I know I'm not the only one that has felt like their life is less exciting after seeing someone's life changing trip across Central America. And I also know I'm not the only one who loves scrolling through their news feed when they have a minute. Social media is good, and I love seeing what my friends are up to who I don't get to see often. It is also fun to document memories with friends when you're all together and the laughs just keep coming. The problem starts when we're sitting home alone and we start comparing our lives to other's daily highlights. We can not get sucked into the comparison trap that is so easy to get tangled in. Galatians 1:10 says "For am I now seeking approval of man or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ." We each have unique lives that are telling a story so amazing that Facebook just can't cover. We live in such a time of quick, instant gratification that it's hard to remember the inevitability that our lives will have slow times and fun doesn't always abound every three seconds. Sometimes we will have nothing to do on a Friday night, and that's okay. No one is less of a person because of this. I believe these moments happen more then talked about, but there's this underlying pressure to always needing to be doing something "cool". I would blame the recent uprise in social media for this because we're constantly bombared with other's daily highlight reels. I wonder what life was like fifteen years without Facebook. There was probably less keeping in touch with long distance friends, but probably more freedom and contentment because we didn't have access to always see what our friends were up to.
Social media can only capture so much, and we are in control of what we put on. It only makes sense that we want to post things that capture us at our best. Everyone has low points daily and in life in general. Yes, this isn't earth shattering news, but seems to be easy to slip the mind when all we see are certain things. It's also easy for thoughts to creep in like "I'm the only one going through this issue." or "I'm the only one with a boring life." This is so far from the truth. We shouldn't go to Facebook for validation for these thoughts, but so often we do. It is only when we learn to embrace our uniqueness with the lives and circumstances we've been given, that we can then generate a positive change in our own lives. Real change does not come looking outside in on the life of someone else. Living vicariously through another person does more harm then good. If we find ourselves starting to feel less than, it is best to just put down the phone, go for a walk and just be thankful for the breath in our lungs. Each of us has amazing, God given gifts. We have a heart beat for a reason and we each have so much to offer the world. No amount of trips, friends or workouts make anyone's life better then someone else's. No matter if you did 400 sit-ups or 400 minus 396; you're life is telling a beautiful story. And whether or not it is documented on Facebook is besides the point.
This isn't a post to prompt a halt to the social media. However, if comparison is an issue I would encourage it. Sometimes a break can be refreshing. How sad would it be if we were so focused on what talents or accomplishments we lacked (because we were busy comparing ourselves on Facebook) that we missed out on what we were amazing at and created for?
I hope you enjoy and embrace the normals, highs and even lows that life brings you today.
But people only see a very small fraction of my life. No one knew about the feelings of loneliness and doubt I experienced just hours before we went out. No one saw me sitting on the curb of Wendy's Thursday night at 11:30 pm because I was too tired to cook dinner after work. No one sees my messy room where half of my clean clothes are still in the wash basket and the other half are slowly becoming friends with the dirty clothes pile.
I would say that I am a happy person. I have so much to be thankful for. In fact, many amazing things happen in my life everyday that it would be way overboard if I documented it all. However, I think a problem can lie if we perceive what others post on Facebook, Instagram and other social media as exactly how their life goes.
Every day there's a few posts related to fitness goals accomplished. Before and after pictures are documented after the completion of a thirty day shred or sixty days of "clean eating" or whatever. Despite my best intentions, I can count on one hand how many sit-ups I did this summer (and I was still sore the next day). And I can promise that the bowls of ice cream consumed far exceeds that number. I scroll through social media to see moments captured by happy couples; holding hands and gazing into the sunset in perfect lighting. I feel a slight pang, because I don't know when that time will come for me. I see others days, vacations, clean rooms, fitness accomplishments and creative ideas. It is so easy to feel a sense of inadequacy purely based on what others post on social media. Sometimes I even feel behind in life or this sense that I'm not where I should be. The funny thing is that seeing someone's post about a ten mile run never motivated me enough to get out the door and go on one myself. It just left me feeling like "I should do that..someday, sometime.."
I know I'm not the only one that has felt like their life is less exciting after seeing someone's life changing trip across Central America. And I also know I'm not the only one who loves scrolling through their news feed when they have a minute. Social media is good, and I love seeing what my friends are up to who I don't get to see often. It is also fun to document memories with friends when you're all together and the laughs just keep coming. The problem starts when we're sitting home alone and we start comparing our lives to other's daily highlights. We can not get sucked into the comparison trap that is so easy to get tangled in. Galatians 1:10 says "For am I now seeking approval of man or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ." We each have unique lives that are telling a story so amazing that Facebook just can't cover. We live in such a time of quick, instant gratification that it's hard to remember the inevitability that our lives will have slow times and fun doesn't always abound every three seconds. Sometimes we will have nothing to do on a Friday night, and that's okay. No one is less of a person because of this. I believe these moments happen more then talked about, but there's this underlying pressure to always needing to be doing something "cool". I would blame the recent uprise in social media for this because we're constantly bombared with other's daily highlight reels. I wonder what life was like fifteen years without Facebook. There was probably less keeping in touch with long distance friends, but probably more freedom and contentment because we didn't have access to always see what our friends were up to.
Social media can only capture so much, and we are in control of what we put on. It only makes sense that we want to post things that capture us at our best. Everyone has low points daily and in life in general. Yes, this isn't earth shattering news, but seems to be easy to slip the mind when all we see are certain things. It's also easy for thoughts to creep in like "I'm the only one going through this issue." or "I'm the only one with a boring life." This is so far from the truth. We shouldn't go to Facebook for validation for these thoughts, but so often we do. It is only when we learn to embrace our uniqueness with the lives and circumstances we've been given, that we can then generate a positive change in our own lives. Real change does not come looking outside in on the life of someone else. Living vicariously through another person does more harm then good. If we find ourselves starting to feel less than, it is best to just put down the phone, go for a walk and just be thankful for the breath in our lungs. Each of us has amazing, God given gifts. We have a heart beat for a reason and we each have so much to offer the world. No amount of trips, friends or workouts make anyone's life better then someone else's. No matter if you did 400 sit-ups or 400 minus 396; you're life is telling a beautiful story. And whether or not it is documented on Facebook is besides the point.
This isn't a post to prompt a halt to the social media. However, if comparison is an issue I would encourage it. Sometimes a break can be refreshing. How sad would it be if we were so focused on what talents or accomplishments we lacked (because we were busy comparing ourselves on Facebook) that we missed out on what we were amazing at and created for?
I hope you enjoy and embrace the normals, highs and even lows that life brings you today.
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
My Sweet Aunt Emma
Despite my brain being in a fog from a pesky summer head cold, I've been thinking so much about my Aunt Emma since her passing almost two weeks ago. I needed to write to share my thoughts about how she changed my life and those around her, even toward the end.
My Great Aunt Emma peacefully passed away June 30th at the age of 98. I had the honor of visiting her bimonthly at Conestoga View.
After signing in I reluctantly grab a visitors pass. It always looks like the past three people who wore the pass used it as a napkin to wipe off their hands after lunch. I wait for the five minute elevator ride to take me to floor number seven. The same thoughts run through my head during the ride up: "I could take the steps so much quicker." "Where is the stair case anyway?" "How did people get anything done when elevators were so slow in the seventies?" "Am I just being impatient?" As my thoughts continue to linger eventually the doors open and I'm spit out to my desired floor.
I am immediately introduced to scents of the floor. Institutional food mixed with bodily fluids mixed with nail polish remover. I try to tell my brain which smell to focus on to lessen the likelihood of me physically looking like I smell something awful. Oh look, ladies getting their nails done. How cute! I am distracted at this adorable site as four elderly ladies sit at the table and fan their fingers for the Resident Assistant to paint their nails. As endearing as this site is, I continue my mission and scan the common space to look for her.
She is easy to find. She is sitting in the glider by the window smiling. She is dressed to the T, and looks like she has been waiting for me all day. "Hi Aunt Emma! It's Emily!" I gently touch the top of her hand and slowly bend down to embrace her for a hug. I don't want to freak her out because I know with her dementia it will take her a while to remember me. And despite the continuity of my visits I notice her dementia gets worse as time goes, making each visit more of a memory jog. She doesn't look scared at all by me and even though I know she has no idea who I am yet she embraces me for a strong hug and cheerful greeting. I am always impressed by the strength of her hugs for being so small. We sit down in the common area surrounded by others. She always offers me the best of what she has right away. Whether it is the comfy glider, or the sandwich she's eating for lunch; her selflessness and desire to see others comfortable is one trait that never left her.
We usually begin our visit by a five minute introduction and explanation of how we are related. "Now I know I know you, but remind me again; Who ARE you?" she would ask me every time. "Now which one's Carol?" When I would tell her I'm Carol's granddaughter and Michelle's daughter. Once we sort have those bases covered we would talk about life and what was going on in the Conestoga View world. "Oh, I love it here." She would always say. Then she proceeds to point out the most ordinary things and describe how wonderful they are and how grateful she to be there. "Look at this chair! It's so wonderful. See, it's right by the window, and I just sit here and look outside." She smiles and rocks contently in the glider. The sun from the seventh story shines through and gives her short white hair almost a halo appearance. "Now what is it you do?" she asks with such interest. Depending on the time I would tell her I was in nurses training or I was a nurse. She smiles so big with familiarity. Nursing was such a big part of Aunt Emma's life that no matter how much of the world she forgets; nursing is so tightly wound in her DNA she will always remember it. Relief comes over me that we have something we can talk about that she remembers. I ask about where she worked and the adventures and places nursing took her. I know she went as far as Colorado and Hawaii to nurse, which back then I'm sure was huge adventure for a Mennonite woman from Akron, PA. Not being able to fully remember locations she says "I've been a lot places and did a lot of things. Yes, it's good work we do." We chat a little more about helping people and I tell her how cool I think it is she traveled so much in her career. Aunt Emma received many accolades for being the amazing human and nurse, and I often would tell her I hope I'm as good of a nurse as she was. She would smile and at this point the dementia is as far away as it can be. She grabs my hand, leans in and says "You'll be a good one. I know it." With her tendency to repeat herself and the multiple visits, she said this many times. However, each time it gave me chills and I silently vow to myself to do my part to make this true.
We continue to chat in the common room when suddenly we here a cry and moan. Heads turn and attention is drawn to the middle aged man with special needs. He is sitting on the couch with his legs drawn to his chest. His face turns cherry red and big, fat tears roll down his face. It is unclear what provoked the melt down, but the folks don't seemed too concerned. Apparently this occurs multiple times a day, and these crying episodes are just per his baseline. Someone offers an "It's okayyy…" from across the room. But once people see who it is they just return to what they are doing. There are nails to paint, pills to pass, and TV to watch. Aunt Emma sees him, touches my hand and excuses herself from our conversation. She walks across the room to the couch where the man is sitting. She puts her hand on his shoulder and gently rubs his back. The man cries harder and tears are now soaking his sweater. "Let me show you how to fix this." she says referring to his tears. She reaches up her sleeve and pulls out two used tissues. She dries the mans tears and then shows him how to do it himself. She watches as the man fumbles with the tissues and attempts to pat his eyes. This lesson is easing his crying and he is slowly calming down. The sobs are turning into soft sniffles. "Okay." Aunt Emma gently takes the tissues from his hands and refolds them as she's about to reinforce the lesson. "Next time you feel sad you just go like this." She shows him again how to wipe his tears and blow his nose. She gives him the tissues for his keeping, pats him again and walks away. She comes back to me as I try to hold in my own tears. "He wasn't very happy." She says. "Hopefully that helped." We continue our conversation and she talks like nothing happened. But I know from across the room on that couch, that mans world was made a little brighter.
There were so many times I saw Aunt Emma make people's lives a little brighter. People loved her and she loved people. Having a failing memory and three roommates might provoke someone to be grumpy or to expect pity. That was never the case with her. She was always happy, but not the fake kind of happy where people put on a front just to make others feel okay. No, Aunt Emma was always optimistic and looked for best and humor in all situations. Her constant peaceful disposition was always refreshing to be around. She always displayed manners and class to everyone she encountered, even when others didn't do the same. I was honored and inspired every time I visited her. I would leave committed to wanting to be kinder, more positive and to look for the others who need help; just like Aunt Emma.
About a week before she passed away I was visiting her daily. I would go in either before or after work. Even if it was late and the doors were locked, the people at the front desk would let me in. I would sit beside her on the bed, read some Psalms, or just hold her hand. She looked so at ease and beautiful even toward the end. One night I was just holding her hand. Time was just passing, and nothing special was going on. I let my hand go as I prepared to leave. Immediately I felt a weak grip. My Aunt Emma with all the strength she could muster grabbed my hand and placed it closer to her chest. Chills ran down my spine, and I froze in that moment not wanting to forget any of it. Right there on the seventh floor in Conestoga View, I felt like the luckiest girl, most loved girl in the world. I kissed her and left. As I left her dark room and into the florescent lit hallway, I still had chills from that moment and promised myself to never forget that. I took the five minute elevator ride down only this time my thoughts were more somber but my heart still full of love.
After Aunt Emma passed my Grandma and I were talking. She told me that I remind her of Aunt Emma sometimes. And honestly it took a lot of work for my head not to swell too much. I only got to know Aunt Emma well in the later stages of her life, but it was nonetheless one of the most inspiring relationships I've had. I only heard stories form others about her in her prime. The combination of these stories and the cumulation of my visits with her make her one of my heroes.
At her viewing last week my great aunts gave me one of Aunt Emma's necklaces. I wore it to work yesterday. The combination of battling a cold, working a second twelve and having a heavy assignment made for a difficult shift. Mid shift I took a bathroom break and washed my hands. I caught my reflection and saw the necklace. Immediately I thought of aunt Emma. I thought of her tenacious personality and optimism. I revisited a memory of her smiling and trying to make the best of a situation. I adjusted the necklace and as well as my attitude. And just like Aunt Emma made the seventh floor at Conestoga View a little better, I decided to make the seventh floor at LGH a little better as well.
My Great Aunt Emma peacefully passed away June 30th at the age of 98. I had the honor of visiting her bimonthly at Conestoga View.
After signing in I reluctantly grab a visitors pass. It always looks like the past three people who wore the pass used it as a napkin to wipe off their hands after lunch. I wait for the five minute elevator ride to take me to floor number seven. The same thoughts run through my head during the ride up: "I could take the steps so much quicker." "Where is the stair case anyway?" "How did people get anything done when elevators were so slow in the seventies?" "Am I just being impatient?" As my thoughts continue to linger eventually the doors open and I'm spit out to my desired floor.
I am immediately introduced to scents of the floor. Institutional food mixed with bodily fluids mixed with nail polish remover. I try to tell my brain which smell to focus on to lessen the likelihood of me physically looking like I smell something awful. Oh look, ladies getting their nails done. How cute! I am distracted at this adorable site as four elderly ladies sit at the table and fan their fingers for the Resident Assistant to paint their nails. As endearing as this site is, I continue my mission and scan the common space to look for her.
She is easy to find. She is sitting in the glider by the window smiling. She is dressed to the T, and looks like she has been waiting for me all day. "Hi Aunt Emma! It's Emily!" I gently touch the top of her hand and slowly bend down to embrace her for a hug. I don't want to freak her out because I know with her dementia it will take her a while to remember me. And despite the continuity of my visits I notice her dementia gets worse as time goes, making each visit more of a memory jog. She doesn't look scared at all by me and even though I know she has no idea who I am yet she embraces me for a strong hug and cheerful greeting. I am always impressed by the strength of her hugs for being so small. We sit down in the common area surrounded by others. She always offers me the best of what she has right away. Whether it is the comfy glider, or the sandwich she's eating for lunch; her selflessness and desire to see others comfortable is one trait that never left her.
We usually begin our visit by a five minute introduction and explanation of how we are related. "Now I know I know you, but remind me again; Who ARE you?" she would ask me every time. "Now which one's Carol?" When I would tell her I'm Carol's granddaughter and Michelle's daughter. Once we sort have those bases covered we would talk about life and what was going on in the Conestoga View world. "Oh, I love it here." She would always say. Then she proceeds to point out the most ordinary things and describe how wonderful they are and how grateful she to be there. "Look at this chair! It's so wonderful. See, it's right by the window, and I just sit here and look outside." She smiles and rocks contently in the glider. The sun from the seventh story shines through and gives her short white hair almost a halo appearance. "Now what is it you do?" she asks with such interest. Depending on the time I would tell her I was in nurses training or I was a nurse. She smiles so big with familiarity. Nursing was such a big part of Aunt Emma's life that no matter how much of the world she forgets; nursing is so tightly wound in her DNA she will always remember it. Relief comes over me that we have something we can talk about that she remembers. I ask about where she worked and the adventures and places nursing took her. I know she went as far as Colorado and Hawaii to nurse, which back then I'm sure was huge adventure for a Mennonite woman from Akron, PA. Not being able to fully remember locations she says "I've been a lot places and did a lot of things. Yes, it's good work we do." We chat a little more about helping people and I tell her how cool I think it is she traveled so much in her career. Aunt Emma received many accolades for being the amazing human and nurse, and I often would tell her I hope I'm as good of a nurse as she was. She would smile and at this point the dementia is as far away as it can be. She grabs my hand, leans in and says "You'll be a good one. I know it." With her tendency to repeat herself and the multiple visits, she said this many times. However, each time it gave me chills and I silently vow to myself to do my part to make this true.
We continue to chat in the common room when suddenly we here a cry and moan. Heads turn and attention is drawn to the middle aged man with special needs. He is sitting on the couch with his legs drawn to his chest. His face turns cherry red and big, fat tears roll down his face. It is unclear what provoked the melt down, but the folks don't seemed too concerned. Apparently this occurs multiple times a day, and these crying episodes are just per his baseline. Someone offers an "It's okayyy…" from across the room. But once people see who it is they just return to what they are doing. There are nails to paint, pills to pass, and TV to watch. Aunt Emma sees him, touches my hand and excuses herself from our conversation. She walks across the room to the couch where the man is sitting. She puts her hand on his shoulder and gently rubs his back. The man cries harder and tears are now soaking his sweater. "Let me show you how to fix this." she says referring to his tears. She reaches up her sleeve and pulls out two used tissues. She dries the mans tears and then shows him how to do it himself. She watches as the man fumbles with the tissues and attempts to pat his eyes. This lesson is easing his crying and he is slowly calming down. The sobs are turning into soft sniffles. "Okay." Aunt Emma gently takes the tissues from his hands and refolds them as she's about to reinforce the lesson. "Next time you feel sad you just go like this." She shows him again how to wipe his tears and blow his nose. She gives him the tissues for his keeping, pats him again and walks away. She comes back to me as I try to hold in my own tears. "He wasn't very happy." She says. "Hopefully that helped." We continue our conversation and she talks like nothing happened. But I know from across the room on that couch, that mans world was made a little brighter.
There were so many times I saw Aunt Emma make people's lives a little brighter. People loved her and she loved people. Having a failing memory and three roommates might provoke someone to be grumpy or to expect pity. That was never the case with her. She was always happy, but not the fake kind of happy where people put on a front just to make others feel okay. No, Aunt Emma was always optimistic and looked for best and humor in all situations. Her constant peaceful disposition was always refreshing to be around. She always displayed manners and class to everyone she encountered, even when others didn't do the same. I was honored and inspired every time I visited her. I would leave committed to wanting to be kinder, more positive and to look for the others who need help; just like Aunt Emma.
About a week before she passed away I was visiting her daily. I would go in either before or after work. Even if it was late and the doors were locked, the people at the front desk would let me in. I would sit beside her on the bed, read some Psalms, or just hold her hand. She looked so at ease and beautiful even toward the end. One night I was just holding her hand. Time was just passing, and nothing special was going on. I let my hand go as I prepared to leave. Immediately I felt a weak grip. My Aunt Emma with all the strength she could muster grabbed my hand and placed it closer to her chest. Chills ran down my spine, and I froze in that moment not wanting to forget any of it. Right there on the seventh floor in Conestoga View, I felt like the luckiest girl, most loved girl in the world. I kissed her and left. As I left her dark room and into the florescent lit hallway, I still had chills from that moment and promised myself to never forget that. I took the five minute elevator ride down only this time my thoughts were more somber but my heart still full of love.
After Aunt Emma passed my Grandma and I were talking. She told me that I remind her of Aunt Emma sometimes. And honestly it took a lot of work for my head not to swell too much. I only got to know Aunt Emma well in the later stages of her life, but it was nonetheless one of the most inspiring relationships I've had. I only heard stories form others about her in her prime. The combination of these stories and the cumulation of my visits with her make her one of my heroes.
At her viewing last week my great aunts gave me one of Aunt Emma's necklaces. I wore it to work yesterday. The combination of battling a cold, working a second twelve and having a heavy assignment made for a difficult shift. Mid shift I took a bathroom break and washed my hands. I caught my reflection and saw the necklace. Immediately I thought of aunt Emma. I thought of her tenacious personality and optimism. I revisited a memory of her smiling and trying to make the best of a situation. I adjusted the necklace and as well as my attitude. And just like Aunt Emma made the seventh floor at Conestoga View a little better, I decided to make the seventh floor at LGH a little better as well.
Sunday, July 3, 2016
Changes in Nike Shoes
Today I bought my first pair of sneakers in three years. For three years I walked around in sneakers I wouldn't consider astheticaly pleasing, but had comfort and arch support; so who am I to complain? Yesterday while walking to work I felt my socks get wet beneath fresh fallen rain. When I looked under my shoe I realized the tread was worn down so much which would explain some recent shin splints I was experiencing. Although they didn't look too worn on the exterior, the sneakers that carried me through many twelve hour shifts and runs were wearing out and it was time to find a new pair.
I walked into Nike outlet with the mission to find a deal and my size. Immediately the smell of new clothes and upbeat music invited me in. Action shots of athletes with perfectly toned legs in Nike shoes grace the walls and remind customers that they too can become great and athletic if they wear Nikes as well. The tempo of the music is playing faster then I can think about how much I want to spend. I dodge clusters of people in deep contemplative thought about sneakers, athletic pursuits and of course, style.
I am either fortunate or unfortunate that my size is really difficult to find. For some reason 10.5 is the rarest shoe size in stock. Fortunate because it keeps the temptation to shop at bay. Unfortunate because when the time does come to look for shoes it is really difficult and frustrating. The cute shoes are always left for the small footed girls meanwhile the homely shoes are on the far bottom or way up top waiting for a girl with big feet to come find them. I have been known for being a bit of a tight wad, but honestly this is one of the biggest reasons I wait so long to buy shoes.
Another reason why I waited so long to buy new shoes was because I was so familiar with the ones I already had. I grew attached to them in a way (which I never thought was possible for how ugly I thought they were at first). They were predictable, always there and I knew they would get me through any shift or long run. When I came to grips with the fact that I had worn them down so much it was time for a new pair I was a little sad. Parting with something that worked well and no longer does is sometimes difficult.
Sometimes in life we get so used to doing things as they are it is easy to become comfortable with routine and status quo. It can be uncomfortable or even a bit scary to step out and try something new. We can live in routine for a long time and feel safe and secure. Stepping out involves risk, investment, commitment and obviously change. The possibility for things to go wrong increases. Being thrust out of a comfort zone into unchartered waters is both scary and risky.
Change is challenging and growing. Whether it's a new pair of sneakers or a career change forces us to do some introspection and reevaluate how we do things. We also have greater opportunity to rely on God to help us through. Doing life in such an orderly, routine predictable fashion gives us the feeling that we are in control of our own life and nothing can go wrong as long as we are in the drivers seat. While order and structure have there place in life, it can be easy to forget that God is ultimately in control. Also, how do we grow our faith when we have nothing to challenge us?
I would also consider it a first world problem that is takes intention to branch out of comfort zones. Living in America and being in a place where shelter, water, food and job are never in question is such a blessing. However, it can also be so easy to have a weaker faith because we have so much security. When change is inevitable (which it will be at some point or another), and our foundations are rocked, we need to be prepared and have the faith to trust in God for guidance, wisdom and direction to help us through whatever we need.
I love the quote that says "Faith starts the moment we step out of our comfort zone." Every week I have been trying to do something different that is out of my routine or comfort zone. I've been trying to be intentional about this, and so far its been neat. I'm only about three weeks in and the things I've been doing aren't anything too dramatic, but I've noticed how it shifts my day and forces me to pray more and seek God. I've been growing in my faith and as a person. I hope as time goes on my daily "challenges" or "dares" continue to grow in substance and faith.
So I ended up buying a new pair of shoes. And I'm happy to report I like the style a little more then my old pair. On my drive home I thought about all long days and muddy runs my old sneakers carried me through. I slight pang of sadness and fear that the other shoes won't live up to what my old shoes provided came over me. But who knows? Until we step out and try something new, we will never know. Maybe these will be the best shoes yet. There are many adventures to be had, things to learn and mountains to climb in a new pair of shoes.
I wish you the best this week as you climb your own mountains. I pray you have the most amazing discoveries as you continue to branch out and try new things.
I walked into Nike outlet with the mission to find a deal and my size. Immediately the smell of new clothes and upbeat music invited me in. Action shots of athletes with perfectly toned legs in Nike shoes grace the walls and remind customers that they too can become great and athletic if they wear Nikes as well. The tempo of the music is playing faster then I can think about how much I want to spend. I dodge clusters of people in deep contemplative thought about sneakers, athletic pursuits and of course, style.
I am either fortunate or unfortunate that my size is really difficult to find. For some reason 10.5 is the rarest shoe size in stock. Fortunate because it keeps the temptation to shop at bay. Unfortunate because when the time does come to look for shoes it is really difficult and frustrating. The cute shoes are always left for the small footed girls meanwhile the homely shoes are on the far bottom or way up top waiting for a girl with big feet to come find them. I have been known for being a bit of a tight wad, but honestly this is one of the biggest reasons I wait so long to buy shoes.
Another reason why I waited so long to buy new shoes was because I was so familiar with the ones I already had. I grew attached to them in a way (which I never thought was possible for how ugly I thought they were at first). They were predictable, always there and I knew they would get me through any shift or long run. When I came to grips with the fact that I had worn them down so much it was time for a new pair I was a little sad. Parting with something that worked well and no longer does is sometimes difficult.
Sometimes in life we get so used to doing things as they are it is easy to become comfortable with routine and status quo. It can be uncomfortable or even a bit scary to step out and try something new. We can live in routine for a long time and feel safe and secure. Stepping out involves risk, investment, commitment and obviously change. The possibility for things to go wrong increases. Being thrust out of a comfort zone into unchartered waters is both scary and risky.
Change is challenging and growing. Whether it's a new pair of sneakers or a career change forces us to do some introspection and reevaluate how we do things. We also have greater opportunity to rely on God to help us through. Doing life in such an orderly, routine predictable fashion gives us the feeling that we are in control of our own life and nothing can go wrong as long as we are in the drivers seat. While order and structure have there place in life, it can be easy to forget that God is ultimately in control. Also, how do we grow our faith when we have nothing to challenge us?
I would also consider it a first world problem that is takes intention to branch out of comfort zones. Living in America and being in a place where shelter, water, food and job are never in question is such a blessing. However, it can also be so easy to have a weaker faith because we have so much security. When change is inevitable (which it will be at some point or another), and our foundations are rocked, we need to be prepared and have the faith to trust in God for guidance, wisdom and direction to help us through whatever we need.
I love the quote that says "Faith starts the moment we step out of our comfort zone." Every week I have been trying to do something different that is out of my routine or comfort zone. I've been trying to be intentional about this, and so far its been neat. I'm only about three weeks in and the things I've been doing aren't anything too dramatic, but I've noticed how it shifts my day and forces me to pray more and seek God. I've been growing in my faith and as a person. I hope as time goes on my daily "challenges" or "dares" continue to grow in substance and faith.
So I ended up buying a new pair of shoes. And I'm happy to report I like the style a little more then my old pair. On my drive home I thought about all long days and muddy runs my old sneakers carried me through. I slight pang of sadness and fear that the other shoes won't live up to what my old shoes provided came over me. But who knows? Until we step out and try something new, we will never know. Maybe these will be the best shoes yet. There are many adventures to be had, things to learn and mountains to climb in a new pair of shoes.
I wish you the best this week as you climb your own mountains. I pray you have the most amazing discoveries as you continue to branch out and try new things.
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
That Time I Deleted Tinder
217 matches, 103 messages, 16 unfamiliar FB requests and 2 meaningful conversations later and I decided to delete my Tinder account. It has been a couple weeks since I stopped swiping right and making virtual small talk with strangers, which I learned I'm pretty bad at.
I do not claim to offer any profound wisdom by writing this post, but rather offer my personal experience.
Like I mentioned in a previous blog post I joined Tinder about two months ago in an attempt to fill the gap in my non existent dating life. It was fun, don't get me wrong. I went on three dates with a great guy. He had the faith, the looks, the job etc, etc.. It still just didn't seem right. Maybe it was because we were both pretty introverted and slightly embarrassed we tried online dating. Maybe we ran out of stuff to talk about. Or maybe we both just got busy with our own lives and realized the work it would take to invite someone else in. Either way, it ended and I can't say I feel happy or sad about it. Just neutral.
After it was concluded this guy and I weren't going to date anymore I hopped back on the Tinder train. It was only about a week and a half. At first it was great, and if anything more of a self esteem boost. I was on vacation with my family so I had lots of extra free time to be on the app and look around. My family knew what I was doing and gave me huge eye rolls every time my phone would ding when a new match would come through.
It started to get weird when I kept getting these Facebook requests from men I didn't know. At first I thought it was pure coincidence, but then I realized these were all Tinder guys. I wasn't extremely creeped out, but creeped out enough to delete the app pronto and ignore the "friend" requests (Especially the guy with a Confederate flag as his profile pic and a cover photo stating "Viva La Trump").
I was talking to a seemingly nice guy in medical school specializing in radiology. .. (or was he really?) I told him the reason I was deleting the app and gave him my number. He asked me on a date, so I thought we could keep talking via text since we both established we weren't weirdos. He was the only one I was talking to, so I was a little bummed when I never heard from him. (dreams of being a doctor's wife also crushed. *sarcasm alert*) Anyway, it's probably for the best. Judging by the three pictures of him and our four days of small talk; I'm probably taller then him and he doesn't drink coffee, making any potential all the slimmer.
Being 2.5 weeks Tinder-free has been great. The app definitely wasn't a huge anchor in my life, but I thought it would harder to let go of it then it has been. I've been a lot more content in my singleness then I have been in months. I have so much peace in my heart and it's amazing. It may be the fresh June air, the invigoration of endless time in the sweet sunshine or the feeling of going to a job that I love that makes me feel so happy right now. Everyday has challenges, but also moments where I stop and feel so thankful to be here in whatever moment I may be in.
I think finding love has always been a deep seeded fear for me. At the risk of being vulnerable, sometimes I feel like for me it's extremely far reaching if not impossible. It's not that I feel insecure with myself or that I feel like I'm unloveable. It's just that I've seen so much if not too much. My whole life until five years ago I saw marriage as a necessary evil to reproduce or something overly optimistic people did who knew something about love that I didn't. Five years ago when I was in Australia I learned and experienced God's love for me like I never had and I have not been the same since. It was in a small canteen on the Eastern part of Queensland that the definition of love changed because I felt God's love for me in a tangible way. Ever since then my cynicism has been dying down and I've started to embrace that if I'm worthy enough for our Savior to love me, then maybe I can here on earth too.
Finding love is lot like ice cream. If I want ice cream I can have it in five seconds. All I need to do is run to the freezer or Turkey Hill and I can get the craving satisfied. I could also gather milk, cream, sugar, rock salt and an ice cream maker and make it from scratch. This would take a lot longer and a definitely more preparation and intention. However, the ending result would taste so much better because fresh, homemade ice cream is way better then anything you can buy at the store.
I learned that finding love is like ice cream because if I want to go on a date, I can. I doesn't take much work and I could go on one tonight if I wanted to (this would require me to download Tinder again, which I don't plan on). It would probably be fun. I might get a free meal and laugh away any stress the day brought. I also could be using this time of singleness to prepare my heart and life for the real person God has for me. This requires work, time and doesn't seem like as much fun as the first option. However when that time comes I'll be ready with a whole heart because of the time I spent in the Word, in meaningful relationships with friends, family and just getting to know myself. And just like homemade ice cream, the quality of love will be all the richer.
This isn't to say I don't believe in going out on dates, having fun and meeting people for the first time. However, if we serial date as a way to cope with the loneliness being single brings, we will never fully know ourselves and when love finally does come. And although doing the right actions to prepare for it take time, intention and preparation; the ending result will be so much more rewarding.
So please enjoy the whether. Take time with the Lord and yourself, because you're pretty awesome. And by all means, eat ice cream!
I do not claim to offer any profound wisdom by writing this post, but rather offer my personal experience.
Like I mentioned in a previous blog post I joined Tinder about two months ago in an attempt to fill the gap in my non existent dating life. It was fun, don't get me wrong. I went on three dates with a great guy. He had the faith, the looks, the job etc, etc.. It still just didn't seem right. Maybe it was because we were both pretty introverted and slightly embarrassed we tried online dating. Maybe we ran out of stuff to talk about. Or maybe we both just got busy with our own lives and realized the work it would take to invite someone else in. Either way, it ended and I can't say I feel happy or sad about it. Just neutral.
After it was concluded this guy and I weren't going to date anymore I hopped back on the Tinder train. It was only about a week and a half. At first it was great, and if anything more of a self esteem boost. I was on vacation with my family so I had lots of extra free time to be on the app and look around. My family knew what I was doing and gave me huge eye rolls every time my phone would ding when a new match would come through.
It started to get weird when I kept getting these Facebook requests from men I didn't know. At first I thought it was pure coincidence, but then I realized these were all Tinder guys. I wasn't extremely creeped out, but creeped out enough to delete the app pronto and ignore the "friend" requests (Especially the guy with a Confederate flag as his profile pic and a cover photo stating "Viva La Trump").
I was talking to a seemingly nice guy in medical school specializing in radiology. .. (or was he really?) I told him the reason I was deleting the app and gave him my number. He asked me on a date, so I thought we could keep talking via text since we both established we weren't weirdos. He was the only one I was talking to, so I was a little bummed when I never heard from him. (dreams of being a doctor's wife also crushed. *sarcasm alert*) Anyway, it's probably for the best. Judging by the three pictures of him and our four days of small talk; I'm probably taller then him and he doesn't drink coffee, making any potential all the slimmer.
Being 2.5 weeks Tinder-free has been great. The app definitely wasn't a huge anchor in my life, but I thought it would harder to let go of it then it has been. I've been a lot more content in my singleness then I have been in months. I have so much peace in my heart and it's amazing. It may be the fresh June air, the invigoration of endless time in the sweet sunshine or the feeling of going to a job that I love that makes me feel so happy right now. Everyday has challenges, but also moments where I stop and feel so thankful to be here in whatever moment I may be in.
I think finding love has always been a deep seeded fear for me. At the risk of being vulnerable, sometimes I feel like for me it's extremely far reaching if not impossible. It's not that I feel insecure with myself or that I feel like I'm unloveable. It's just that I've seen so much if not too much. My whole life until five years ago I saw marriage as a necessary evil to reproduce or something overly optimistic people did who knew something about love that I didn't. Five years ago when I was in Australia I learned and experienced God's love for me like I never had and I have not been the same since. It was in a small canteen on the Eastern part of Queensland that the definition of love changed because I felt God's love for me in a tangible way. Ever since then my cynicism has been dying down and I've started to embrace that if I'm worthy enough for our Savior to love me, then maybe I can here on earth too.
Finding love is lot like ice cream. If I want ice cream I can have it in five seconds. All I need to do is run to the freezer or Turkey Hill and I can get the craving satisfied. I could also gather milk, cream, sugar, rock salt and an ice cream maker and make it from scratch. This would take a lot longer and a definitely more preparation and intention. However, the ending result would taste so much better because fresh, homemade ice cream is way better then anything you can buy at the store.
I learned that finding love is like ice cream because if I want to go on a date, I can. I doesn't take much work and I could go on one tonight if I wanted to (this would require me to download Tinder again, which I don't plan on). It would probably be fun. I might get a free meal and laugh away any stress the day brought. I also could be using this time of singleness to prepare my heart and life for the real person God has for me. This requires work, time and doesn't seem like as much fun as the first option. However when that time comes I'll be ready with a whole heart because of the time I spent in the Word, in meaningful relationships with friends, family and just getting to know myself. And just like homemade ice cream, the quality of love will be all the richer.
This isn't to say I don't believe in going out on dates, having fun and meeting people for the first time. However, if we serial date as a way to cope with the loneliness being single brings, we will never fully know ourselves and when love finally does come. And although doing the right actions to prepare for it take time, intention and preparation; the ending result will be so much more rewarding.
So please enjoy the whether. Take time with the Lord and yourself, because you're pretty awesome. And by all means, eat ice cream!
Monday, June 6, 2016
Benzoyl Peroxide
Every evening I go to the bathroom to take off my make-up , wash my face and begin my skin care regimen. I love and hate this time. I love it because it's a sign that the day is over, bed is calling, and I can start fresh tomorrow. I hate it because behind the layer of foundation reveals my issue that I try to hide. See, the Loreal W4 neutral tone acts as a barrier between whats really going on with my face and the rest of the world. When I wash my face at night and when I wake up in the morning I am daily confronted with the fact that my skin is not perfect. My acne never ceases to become more and more aggressive despite my attempts to fight it.
When my make-up is off I feel ugly and exposed. I feel like less of a person. I feel more transparent and that I even have less to offer. Even talking to the girls in my house sans makeup, I will keep my face down and try and keep the conversation short to prevent them from having to see the monstrosity that is the acne on my face. I can feel their eyes gaze down as well. I'm not sure if it's because they sense how I feel, know the truth, or are trying to be considerate.
It all started four years ago right before I started working at the hospital. It honestly didn't bother me for a long time. I thought it would eventually go away with careful face washing and buying the right stuff. Months turned into years. Dollars turned into a lot of dollars. Despite my efforts the acne wasn't getting better, but getting worse. It didn't help that I was in nursing school and working over twenty hours a week in a high stress job. Over a year ago I went to my family doctor and went on doxycycline and then ampicillin; both of which had very little effect. Right before I was about to graduate it was at its worst. I never saw a dermatologist, but I was never closer to calling then I was at that time.
Right after school was over, slowly the acne started to get better! It took a long time to notice, but soon I would think "this nightly face wash thing seems like less of a battle each night." Coincidently this fell around Lent which I decided to give up desserts. I had no idea what this would do for my skin. As each day passed I would say "no" to ice cream and M&Ms; I noticed the acne wasn't only not coming back, but going away. Although I was floored this was actually working, it was hard to admit that this was probably diet/ stress induced. Now four years later my skin condition is probably the best it has been. Believe me, the marks and the scars are still there staring me in the face each morning. Only now it's more of a whisper than a shout.
Last night as a washed my face the feelings of insecurity and inadequacy started creeping in. The feelings weren't anything new. Instead of agreeing with them or letting my thoughts indulge in feeling less than, I decided to think about why I was feeling this way. I was still the same person I was twenty seconds ago with make-up on. Nothing changed about me in character between when I had foundation on and when I didn't. The only thing that changed was that my mask was gone. The problem that I have dealt with for so long was staring at me again. Slightly better then what it was months ago, but still there.
I got to thinking about life and how we all wear masks to cover up things in our life that we don't want the world to see. It may not be in the form of Loreal foundation; but it could be words, clothes, work, or pretending to be someone we aren't. We even wear masks with ourselves by self medicating with overworking, overspending, overeating, under eating, buying stuff, making stuff or doing stuff. We're scared to be confronted with what issues are really going on with ourselves and even more scared for others to know what they are.
I know the Lord knows exactly what I look like with out make-up. He loves me just as much as when I'm fresh out of bed in sheep PJ's and messy hair as he does when I'm ready to walk out the door. Why should I feel so insecure when I have a heavenly Father that loves me so much? And this is way beyond physical. Yes, the Lord knows us so well. He made us. 1 Samuel 16:7 "God sees each of us much differently then we see ourselves. Man looks at outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." I believe God wants us to come to him and be real and authentic with our issues. He sees them already, so the only people we are lying to are ourselves. There are so many good Psalms about David pouring his heart out to God and God sustaining and uplifting him through hard times. I myself and working on this true authenticity. It can be hard and a bit daunting, but with the Holy Spirit as our helper and a loving heavenly Father, there is no mountain that is too high and no issue they can't handle.
Of course there are always dermatologists and professional counselors. I think they are wonderful resources and I could probably benefit from both. Until then and right now I'm doing pretty well and I'm excited to see what being more authentic with the Lord will bring in my own life. I'm also excited and anticipate great things in yours as well.
Stay connected and keep looking up!
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
That time I joined Tinder
A few weeks ago I did what any girl looking for a relationship full of meaning and substance would do: I joined Tinder. Yes, I joined Tinder. It took 3 seconds to download the app and three hours the night before pacing my room, going for a contemplative run and google searching "should a Christian girl join Tinder?"
Commonly known as a superficial dating app purely judging a person based on appearance, age and job description (but don't we do that all the time already?). It is also known as a way to meet up and get done some business without actually getting to know the person. Based on your extensive knowledge of the three facts you know about him or her, you and your semi shallow ambitions are fully equipped to know if this is dating material. Simply swipe left if it's a no and swipe right if it's a yes. If both people swipe right or hit "like", you both will virtually come together and tinder announces "It's a match!" Then the both of you have the opportunity to chat. About what? "Hey, you're cute, what do you do?" Awkward start to a conversation when you only know physical appearance, age, institution of study, and possibly a rough idea of occupation. I've got some great material and I could make a whole blog post dedicated to the Tinder pick lines I've gotten. My personal favorite: "Hey, so let's cut the small talk and start with what's really important. What's your favorite Spice Girls song?"
Despite my hesitation at first, I was hearing stories of Tinder success and that there are some pretty cool guys out in Tinder. Rewind a few weeks ago where I was getting frustrated with my nonexistent dating life. I was starting to feel like a hamster on this wheel of working, sleeping, back to work with maybe a bike ride or run thrown in. It wasn't a bad wheel to be on, and I was pretty happy to be on it. It was just hard because there are only twenty four hours in a day and nothing seemed to happening as far as dating was going. I heard somewhere if you want change in your life YOU have to be the one to take some initiative and make it happen. No one prays that they will get a college degree without applying to school, studying and working hard. It takes both prayer and work on the person's part to make it. I could also pray every night I would know how to play the violin, but wouldn't that be foolish if I never took lessons? I also heard and believe that the things in your heart that you want to see happen God cares about so much. In his perfect timing and knowing the desires of your heart, he will give us our desires. (Ecclesiastes 3:11 "He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity in man's heart, yet so that he can not find out what God has done from the beginning to the end." Luke 11:11-13 "What father among you, if a his son asks for a fish will instead of a fish give him a serpent; or if he asks for an egg will he give him a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!") There was some tension in my heart between taking initiative for things I want to see happen and knowing God's got my back and cares more about my love life than I do. Even after prayer and waiting on the Lord, I didn't feel led one way or another. I believe God gives us free will about some things as well and sensed this was one those things. I mean, it's probably the only time in my life I can do something like this anyway. This was my thought process as I nervously and excitedly hit "download".
So with a few weeks of Tinder experience under my belt, I would say I'm no longer a newbie. It is honestly kind of fun. After a while it's like eating ice cream for dinner every night. Awesome at first, then gets a little mundane until eventually the awe factor wears off. You get sick of it at some point and want the salad you never thought you'd ask for.
I did go on an awesome Tinder date. Great Christian guy and character. It was both our first time doing any type of online dating. Nothing really happened from it, but it was fun to meet someone new and just go on a date! I think we can learn a lot from these experiences but it takes some wisdom at the same time.
Stay tuned for more adventures in my still non existent, but slightly more interesting dating world.
Sunday, May 29, 2016
Here I am, and back so soon.
Thank you to all for the positive feedback to give me the virtual push to actually start writing again. I believe everyone's deepest fear is criticism, rejection or failure. Since I'm rather on on the private side it can be uncomfortable to share thoughts. Coming from someone who feels deeply, if I don't express what's going on; it will bottle up and turn into an irrational thought. Before too long all hell will break loose and it takes a lot of Bible reading and some talking it out to get back on track.
So please let me be clear: I do not have it all together. I have been around the block with a few things. I pray that overtime I will have the courage to share these things. In the meantime I'm still stretching these out of shape writing muscles. I feel like the person who is going from video games to distance runner. It won't happen overnight. I'll be sore and maybe clueless. Sometimes I'll be overwhelmed. And just like working out, sometimes blogging will be the last thing I want to do. My writing may not be up to par like it was in college, but I hope with time it will develop. Life is a journey of progression. If there's one thing I know, that is it.
So here is a little bit about me..
I am 24
I love the Lord with all my heart, soul and mind
People fascinate me
Myers-Briggs says I'm an INFJ. Makes sense.
I'm a nurse
Being outside is what refuels me
So does laughter
As well as ice cream
I love quotes, poems, and stories from other people
I want to get to know YOU!
I hope you all are having a great weekend. I am so grateful for this time to reflect on those who have served so bravely and selflessly on behalf of this country. Thank you to all who have served.
Saturday, May 28, 2016
A little jump, a little late, but why mess up a good thing?
HELLO!!
If you stumbled across this, first of all wow. And second thank you for visiting.
I have been wanting to dip my feet back in the blog world again for quite some time. However between a busy schedule, procrastination, apprehension, forgetting my Wordpress password, and the slight fear of what others think (which is so difficult to shake) made for a beautiful combination for a five month delay. Nonetheless, here I am. I'm back on Blogspot, which I know isn't as cool or trendy as Wordpress, but I thought it would be somewhat sentimental to pick up where I left off.
I started this blog when I was a wide-eyed 18-19 year old going to Australia. I flirted with writing again a few times in 2013. Now it's 2016 and I hope to be a bit more dedicated this time. Not because I believe I obtain any sort of infinite wisdom or because of some large fan base. No. My reasons for writing again are somewhat selfish. I love to write and express myself through words which can be thought out, processed and then deleted in way that can not be done verbally. Even just writing this short introduction I feel a little lighter and like I'm able to connect in a unique way.
So thank you for visiting or revisiting. It has been so long since I wrote anything personal. I feel a bit out of shape in the writing world. My grammar will not be perfect, but my thoughts will be honest and real. I look forward to connecting with others in the blogging community and together we can try to make sense of this world.
If you stumbled across this, first of all wow. And second thank you for visiting.
I have been wanting to dip my feet back in the blog world again for quite some time. However between a busy schedule, procrastination, apprehension, forgetting my Wordpress password, and the slight fear of what others think (which is so difficult to shake) made for a beautiful combination for a five month delay. Nonetheless, here I am. I'm back on Blogspot, which I know isn't as cool or trendy as Wordpress, but I thought it would be somewhat sentimental to pick up where I left off.
I started this blog when I was a wide-eyed 18-19 year old going to Australia. I flirted with writing again a few times in 2013. Now it's 2016 and I hope to be a bit more dedicated this time. Not because I believe I obtain any sort of infinite wisdom or because of some large fan base. No. My reasons for writing again are somewhat selfish. I love to write and express myself through words which can be thought out, processed and then deleted in way that can not be done verbally. Even just writing this short introduction I feel a little lighter and like I'm able to connect in a unique way.
So thank you for visiting or revisiting. It has been so long since I wrote anything personal. I feel a bit out of shape in the writing world. My grammar will not be perfect, but my thoughts will be honest and real. I look forward to connecting with others in the blogging community and together we can try to make sense of this world.
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